


And We Call Them Miracles

by Moonlightkitten



Series: Pride Month 2018 [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 20GAYTEEN, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bill gets to know Heather between the small snippets we get of them in canon, F/F, Feels, Fluff, Happy pride month, I don't recommend that you take it, I wanted to see more of Heather so ya, Lesbians in Space, Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sort Of, The Doctor gives relationship advice, They're discussed a couple times though, Twissy and Twelve/River are sort of background relationships, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlightkitten/pseuds/Moonlightkitten
Summary: “I could’ve left. I had the chance. I should’ve. But I stayed for you.”In which Bill gradually falls in love with Heather. Scenes set between the events of the pilot.





	And We Call Them Miracles

Sometimes she wondered if she had dreamt it all up, talked herself into believing a fairy tale. Because that night, that  _ magical  _ night _ ,  _ really was the stuff of fairytales. 

 

Bill had asked her mum what true love felt like, as a hopelessly confused fifteen-year-old struggling to understand why her eyes were drawn not to the buff blokes on the rugby team, but rather to the cheerleaders, whose smiles and laughter and coy, searching eyes left a fluttering in her core that was hard to reconcile with the expectations surrounding her. So she lay there, alone in the dark, her arms wrapped around a pillow that she could pretend was the mother she had never met, if she could only get drunk enough on her own tears. Bill wasn’t a weepy person, didn’t cry easily, but it was hard sometimes,  so damn…  _ hard.  _

 

“Calm down, child, I’m here. You’re safe. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

 

The blinding love from her mother’s smile shone through the absolute vacuum that was Bill’s brain, and she swore that she could almost feel a gentle hand pushing back her unkempt hair. 

“Mum, what does it feel like to be in love?” 

 

Her mother’s soft laugh spilled through the empty air, butter melting. Safe. Warm. Loved. 

“I can’t say I ever met the right man, honey,” she replied. “But I  _ do  _ know what it feels like to love somebody so much that it hurts. When you popped outta me, Billie…” 

 

Bill giggled, feeling a bit foolish for laughing at herself in the dark, but it felt right. Her mum would have been laughing, too, and, anyway, that was all that Bill really wanted. To be loved so much that it hurt. She wanted it to be true. Wanted it so badly that she couldn’t breathe. Moira was fond of her, but she had never said those words.  _ I love you.  _ Nobody had. 

 

“When I first saw you,” her mum whispered, breaking the silence, “I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I couldn’t believe you were really mine. I fell in love with you right away, baby girl. You were so tiny, but even then, you were smiling, I swear. I knew you were gonna grow up to be something special. It was a connection- like, bam, this tiny baby was suddenly the most important person in my life.” 

*

Bill felt now, suddenly, that she understood some part of her mother’s (well, her own) words, gazing at that star and the girl who it belonged to. She had seen her, across the pub, and it was like a reflex and her mind flashed with--  _ god, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you--  _ as though this Star Girl was already a part of her life, as though they were friends or… more, maybe. Somehow, she felt as though she would have liked to be that  _ more  _ with Star Girl. And that was how she knew, immediately, that they belonged to each other, and she accepted it without question, standing up to go and meet her. 

 

As if she had any choice in the matter. It  _ was  _ a reflex-- eye contact, electricity. Magnetism. She could see that Star Girl felt it too, from the way that her blue eyes flashed with purpose. 

 

And then they were standing in front of each other, and maybe it was the music, that soulful, wailing guitar solo that pulsed through to her core; maybe it was the fruity drink she’d had, or the lights, or the atmosphere. But Bill  _ knew  _ then, with complete certainty, that she was looking at the woman with whom she would someday share her life. Words were not necessary. Star Girl offered her a slim, pale, hand, and Bill folded it into her own, encircling her waist with the other one. 

 

A flash of gold sparkled up through thick lashes as the other girl grinned up at Bill, and they began to sway in time to the music, which had changed to a slow, passionate ballad. Perfect. She made a mental note to thank the guitarist later, though his eyebrows were a bit frightening. 

 

Star Girl was smaller than she, warm and soft, with a smile that could melt titanium. Bill pulled her closer, letting the girl’s blonde hair get caught up in her own little ringlets, but staying far enough away that she could still see her eyes. 

 

The star, especially. It was gorgeous, gleaming gold as the girl studied Bill with a quiet grin. 

 

When Bill was sixteen, she had taken a boat ride at Moira’s forty-fifth birthday party, and when the night began to fall, a lighthouse shone its beacon from miles away. Bright and brilliant. This girl was her lighthouse now, beckoning her home. She wanted nothing more than to bottle this moment, store it safely away and revisit it again and again. 

 

The song ended. 

 

“Lemme buy you a drink,” Bill offered, but when she returned from the bar, two margaritas in hand, Star Girl was gone. “Shit.” 

 

Of  _ course  _ she was. She laughed bitterly and downed both drinks. 

*****************

The second time Bill saw her was halfway through one of the Doctor’s lectures-- this one about penguin colonies in space and possibly Jane Austen, which was both brilliant and confusing as hell. 

 

“... and then, of course, Hitler came along and mucked everything up-- bloody idiot, by the way, and even uglier in real life than the photographs, though he killed my wife so I may be a teeny bit biased… but anyway, my point is that life can be sustained without the use of…” 

 

Bill raised an eyebrow. Wasn’t he a bit young to have known Hitler? It wasn’t as though she had personally met the Doctor- maybe he looked younger from further away, but still… Smiling incredulously, she leaned forward to survey the rest of the audience. Was anyone else confused, or was she just crazy? 

 

And then she saw her. 

 

Star Girl leaned toward her, giving the tiniest of smiles, and  _ dammit.  _ She was soaring, head spinning and twisting and fluttering, and she suddenly knew that she was absolutely mad for this stranger. Just when she had just gotten a promotion, too. Couldn’t this crush have waited a bit longer for her to get settled into her new job? 

********************

“Doctor-- sorry, I know this is gonna sound… weird, or something, but have you ever been in love? I mean, what does it feel like?” 

 

“Bloody painful.”

 

“I’m sorry?” 

 

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. She took this opportunity to glance at the photos on his desk. Who were those women? His wife and daughter? Mother? 

 

“I had a best friend once-- was in love with him, even.” He snorted. “That was a long time ago. We were never going to part. Made, you know, blood pacts and everything. Then he became a psychopath and tried to kill me. Even succeeded a couple times. Of course, she’d stop to make out with me, every so often, but---” 

 

“Sorry,  _ not _ following.” 

 

His eyes snapped open. “Don’t look at me for love advice. I have about as much of a clue as-- well, actually. I  _ was  _ married once. Well, lots of times, but most of them were accidental, one was Marilyn Monroe, and two or three may have been my psychopath friend.  Point is, my…” he paused to count on his fingers, “twelfth spouse, give or take, she was the only one who  _ really  _ mattered. Excluding Koschei, but that’s complicated, of course. My wife, she was brainwashed from birth to kill me. Basically raised just for that purpose. But she didn't. She couldn’t, even if it meant destroying the universe.” 

 

He sighed. “ _ That’s  _ love, if you’re looking for it. I loved her too, though she never knew. Well, not until recently. But she died a long, long, time ago, and I can’t say that I could ever answer your question.” 

 

She gaped at him in silence for a while, trying to make sense of what he had said. Finally, she spoke. “Uh, right. That’s really nice, mate, but I just remembered I have something that I need to… yeah, see ya.” 

 

She scurried out of his office, wondering what the hell that was all about and whether any of it was true, and if it was, well. That would really just lead to more questions.   

 

(And a part of her was touched in a way that she couldn’t explain, as though she had seen the very tip of something beautiful but couldn’t quite grasp it, didn’t  _ understand.  _ She wondered vaguely if she understood anything.)

*******************

It was over the holidays that she saw Heather again. Christmas Eve. 

Moira was with George (or possibly Harold), and so Bill was nursing a drink, alone, at the university pub. Not that she exactly minded Moira’s romantic exploits-- really, her foster mum was free to do as she pleased-- but Christmas Eve was a time for family. Or at least the closest approximation of it. 

 

It wasn’t as though Bill was religious, at least in the traditional sense of the word. She believed in  _ something,  _ yes, but not a god. Not any sort of divine being. More like a… world order, in a way. A belief that things would work themselves out eventually. 

 

Justice, maybe. There had to be justice somewhere, right? If there wasn’t, Bill wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. 

 

She was pondering this, wondering if it would kill Moira to spend some time with her for once, when Heather seated herself without a word at Bill’s side, a glass of-- _ vodka, maybe?--  _ in her small hands. 

 

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Looking for me, were you?” 

 

“Maybe I was,” she replied briskly, taking a small sip of her drink. “There are a lot of people in this university, you know. So many.” 

 

It was such an odd thing to say that Bill paused for a moment, thrown off guard. Finally, cautiously, she confessed, “I might have missed you. I think I probably did.” 

 

Heather turned then, the star in her eye gleaming. “I hope so.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yes.” She placed a gentle hand on the other woman’s knee, and, though taken aback by her forwardness, Bill did not protest or attempt to move. Heather continued in a soft voice, “I could’ve left. I had the chance. I should’ve. But I stayed. For you.”

 

Raising an eyebrow, Bill took a small sip of her drink. “Are you drunk or something?” 

 

“I wish I was,” she admitted. A small smile overtook her features. “Hey, let’s get drunk. You and me. Just for tonight.” 

 

“Wait.” Brows furrowed, Bill pulled Heather’s glass out of reach. “I-- God, Heather, I mean, I think you’re gorgeous. And I would absolutely love to, well, you know… but I just-- something about you seems…  _ off,  _ somehow. Are you hurt? Is someone  _ hurting  _ you?” 

 

Heather surveyed her for a long, painful moment, before whispering, “I think I’m running out of time. So just… make this count, alright? No small talk.” 

 

It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, and they both knew it, but Bill wondered if maybe if was the best one she was ever going to get. 

 

“I knitted a scarf,” Bill said suddenly, taking another sip of her drink. “For Moira, my foster mum. Took me ages. I’m giving it to her for Christmas.” 

 

“You must love her a lot,” commented Heather with that same quiet, almost frightening intensity that seemed to charge all of her speech. 

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, yeah, when I was little, I did. She did her best, and it wasn’t much, but I turned out okay, you know? But she doesn’t spend time with me now. Doesn’t even really talk to me anymore, hasn’t in ages. She’s always gone, and… well, sometimes I think that she just wanted a cute foster kid to take care of, and now that I’m grown up, she doesn’t much care what happens to me.” She laughed bitterly. “I know it’s stupid, but I just-- well, I didn’t want to be alone on Christmas Eve.” 

 

“You’re not,” said Heather, the star shining in the low lighting of the bar. “I could stay with you tonight. If you wanted.” And Bill was vaguely aware that she was being propositioned, but again that stupid thought about lighthouses and belonging flashed through her mind. God. When had she turned into a hopeless romantic?

 

Neither really had anything to say after that, so they just sort of stared at each other, taking occasional sips of their drinks. Finally, Heather laughed softly and leaned in a little. And Bill wasn’t sure about this, felt something brooding in the pit of her stomach, holding her back, but at the same time, she wasn’t an idiot. Pretty girl tries to kiss you, you kiss back. That was the way it worked. She didn’t exactly have many romantic opportunities in her life, anyway. So she cautiously, ever so cautiously, let her eyes flutter shut.

 

Then, an instant before their lips touched, Bill jerked back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t do this when I know you’re just going to disappear the second I turn away. It’s not fair.”

 

Heather nodded, looking faintly disappointed. “You’re probably right.” 

 

“Sorry, can I ask where you  _ go?  _ You always run off and I don’t see you again, but I don’t know where you go.” 

 

“Where do you think?” 

 

“The puddle?” When Heather inclined her head softly, Bill sighed. “What’s so interesting about a puddle, anyway? I mean, no offense, but…  yeah. It's just water.”

 

“It scares me,” she admitted softly, crossing her arms low across her hip. “There’s something in it that scares the hell out of me.”

 

“O _ kay,”  _ said Bill incredulously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s just a  _ puddle.  _ I think you’re reading too much into it. Maybe-- wait,” she added, turning suddenly. “Do you get these dreams all the time, like me? About water? That’s all I dream about lately.” 

 

“I dream about  _ you  _ sometimes,” she replied, and it wasn’t an answer, not really, but it was good enough for Bill. 

 

“Wait--” she said, laying a hand on Heather’s. “Can I ask you something? I mean, you can say no.” 

 

“Anything.” 

 

“Okay,” began Bill, inhaling. “Thing is, I really do like you, and I really don’t want to be alone tonight. Can we… I mean, if I agree, will you promise to stay? To be there when I wake up in the morning?” 

 

“Yes,” she breathed, finishing off her drink in one gulp. “Of course.” 

 

Heather kissed like a promise, like hope tinged with sadness. More than anything, though,  she was liquid-- graceful, flowing, and somehow unbearably sad. Bill couldn’t stop herself from crying.

 

(She did stay the night, and when Bill woke up the next morning, the first thing that she saw was the star.  _ I could get used to this.  _

Then Heather was gone, throwing on her clothes hastily with a murmured apology--  _ of course she was-- _ but she had kept her promise this time, at least. Bill felt somehow that this strange, mysterious girl was the type to keep a promise.)

  
  


*************************

 

Later, when she was all alone with only a strange madman to keep her company, she clung to that memory. It was what kept her going those ten years, more than the metal heart or the chemical IVs or even the nasty, cold teas that Razor served.  _ Heather.  _ Maybe she would see her again. Somehow, it seemed almost possible. 

 

*************************

Then she was dead but not really, dripping with the tears that she hadn’t been able to cry for so long, and there was Heather, and it had to be a dream. 

 

She was so glad it wasn’t. 

 

It was sadness and endings and made Bill’s throat well up. She had hoped for so long, so damn long, that it would all be restored. That she would be back with the Doctor and Nardole, on Earth, serving chips. That was all she wanted. But that was gone now, all over.

 

Never again. 

 

Bittersweet, too, because another door had opened. Another life, and it was wrong, strange, foreign, but so right. 

 

Later, when they had settled somewhere else, on the branch of a tree that Heather said you could see every star in the universe from, Bill finally asked her. 

 

“Are you even the same person I knew? You’re not human. But are you really Heather, or just some alien in her body?”

 

“Do you feel like Bill?” she whispered by way of reply, and it was a genuine question. She wanted to know.  

 

“Yeah, I guess. Though not the same Bill that I was ten years ago, or however long I was down in that spaceship. I sometimes wish I could go back,” she admitted. Then she looked up, meeting Heather’s eyes. “Can you do that? Turn back time?” 

 

And she wasn’t quite sure what she  _ wanted  _ the answer to be, so when Heather said no, it was disappointing, yes, but also somewhat of a relief. Her life had been painful. Terrible and biting and painful, but it was hers.

 

“Just as well, then. I’m glad I have you. Although, sometimes I think I’m in love with a goddess,” Bill sighed, pushing back a strand of blonde hair from the other woman’s face. “It’s overwhelming.” 

 

“You don’t have to be,” said Heather seriously. “I could put you back on Earth. Erase your memories. Would you like that?” 

 

Bill considered it for moment. “Maybe. It’s all mad, you know? I met a magic girl at a pub ten years ago, and now she’s showing me the stars. It’s like a dream. I mean,” she said softly, “I don’t think I could go back now. I don’t think I could be happy on Earth, after all I’ve been through. All I’ve  _ seen _ , you know?” 

 

Heather nodded, pulling her close. “Let me know if you change your mind. I just want you to be happy, Bill. That’s all.” 

 

And she was, eventually. It took a while to get used to it all, but they were so happy together. And later, in the end, she was so glad that she had chosen Heather. 

**Author's Note:**

> My poor lil gay heart exploded during the last scenes of The Doctor Falls, and I kinda had to write something more for this lovely pairing. 
> 
> Comments=Love


End file.
